


Embarrassment comes in pink and purple

by Alice_vs_Wonderland



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_vs_Wonderland/pseuds/Alice_vs_Wonderland
Summary: Jack and Flynn are eating ice cream in the park, enjoying the first day of their summer vacation, when Jack sees Hiccup for the first time and loses all awareness of his surroundings. Embarrassment follows.





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a special kind of freedom that only comes with the first day of a long vacation. Jack breathes in the fresh summer breeze, and it feels like it’s blowing all the cobwebs and the dust out of his bones and organs.

The park is busier than usual, filled with white tents and people. There’s some sort of art festival today, where any artist, regardless of age or experience, can show off their work. Wooden food stands with colorful banners are everywhere, delicious scents like cinnamon rolls, popcorn and hotdogs mixing together.

He and Flynn are taking it easy, simply strolling along the paths of the park, taking a few peeks inside a tent here and there. There’s a certain soft contentment inside him. He’s with his best friend, walking in comfortable silence, enjoying a sweet ice cream, feeling the summer sun on his face, hearing children laugh from the playground. The taste of mint ice cream tingles on his tongue, sharp and refreshing. He holds onto the cone with a firm grip, so he won’t suddenly lose it and see it splash onto the ground in slow motion like The Great Ice Cream Disappointment of 2017. Flynn takes a huge bite into his banana-and-chocolate ice cream, immune to brain freezes like the freak he is. Jack watches him gobble up the cold chunk.

“What?” Flynn says, his eyes growing big and round like an innocent puppy. Hah. Flynn. Innocent. Good one, Jack.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Jack says and shrugs. “It’s just interesting … seeing you devour that ice cream like you’ve never had anything to eat before.”

A little girl with pig tails runs past them with a huge balloon depicting that annoying snowman from Frozen.

“Hey, can’t a guy enjoy a delicious ice cream without getting attacked?” Flynn says with an offended frown on his face.

“When he’s eating it like a honey badger tearing off someone’s testicle, he’ll have to put up with some comments,” Jack says, putting on that crooked smile that Flynn says makes him look like a smug bastard. Apparently, some woman with a short fringe and the thickest lips Jack has ever seen heard him say “testicle”, because she covers her little son’s ears and whisks him away from Jack and Flynn. Wauw. Dramatic.

They pass yet another tent and go to the opening flaps to take a quick peek.

“Lay off me, Frost,” Flynn says and waves one of his hands around. “Exams almost killed me. I have every right to savor this beautiful example of human ingenuity,” he says and looks lovingly at the ice cream.

All the tents have some sort of theme to the art works inside. This one seems to be candy and other sweets; paintings and drawings of shiny lollipops, cakes with gleaming frosting, bonbons in colorful paper. It looks delicious and usually, Jack wouldn’t mind looking at some candy-related art, but this tent is almost packed with kids and parents.

He licks his own ice cream and savors the minty freshness filling his mouth. “You know … There are pretty girls all around … One of them could see you like this, eating like a squirrel who’s not prepared for winter. Not to mention the ice cream on your nose and cheeks.”

The brief moment where Flynn’s eyes go from relaxed to panicked is glorious and Jack can’t help but laugh. “Dude!” Flynn says and wipes his hands over his face. “You should have told me that! I have a reputation to uphold.”

Something cold trails down his hand. He sees a light green streak of melted ice cream. Ugh. He better speed it up before it melts entirely. He licks the ice cream again and wipes his hand off in his jeans like the uncivilized person he is. “What reputation is that?”

Flynn stares at him with dead eyes but it looks ridiculous because of the bright yellow ice cream in his hand and his teal T-shirt with the little duckling and the words “The Snuggly Duckling” – that pub he loves back in his home town. “I am hurt, Frost. Deeply hurt. You can’t claim you haven’t noticed the effect The Smolder has on women. It should be imprinted in your brain by now.”

“Are you a handsome guy who gets attention from women? Yes. Are you some sort of playboy with a magical seductive move? No.”

Flynn gasps and shares a brief look with his ice cream, like it’s supposed to share his outrage. “How dare you? I’ll have you know I am a legend in the dating scene.”

“You forget that I know you, asshole,” Jack says and bites into his cone. He crunches it between his teeth and wishes he had something to drink on him.

Another tent. A little girl with a dragon plushie drags her mom into it, eager to see the art works, apparently. There’s a little food stand outside the tent selling candy and cookies shaped like dragons.

“ _You_ forget you’ve refused to acknowledge my skills before and been proven wrong,” Flynn says, chewing the last remnants of his ice cream. He tosses the paper he had around the cone in the trash can. Jack follows his example.

When Jack is able to peek inside the tent, he’s not surprised to see the theme of the art works inside: dragons. He spots a huge painting of a black dragon. It has its wings unfolded, ready to take off from a cliff. It looks alive; black scales gleaming in the sunlight, green eyes playful, ready for adventure. The artist must have a good imagination. Not to mention incredible talent. He can almost feel the warm, rough scales under his fingertips. He considers whether he and Flynn should stop walking and take a closer look at the works in this tent, when a hand waves in front of his eyes.

“Heeelloooo,” Flynn’s voice says. “It’s no use going quiet, just because you’ve been beaten.”

Jack snaps his head to the side and stares into Flynn’s teasing eyes. “You wish. You’ll never beat me, Rider.” Ridiculous. They’re both stubborn, always trying to get the last word, but Jack is willing to go a lot farther than Flynn, so he almost always wins their arguments.

Flynn holds a finger to his chin like he’s in thought. “Uh, I think I just did?”

“Pffft, yeah right,” Jack says and spots a cotton candy stall. Damn, that’s tempting. He’s just eaten an ice cream, but he’s nothing if not a bottomless pit, when it comes to sweet things. And they even have the blue cotton candy. Maybe he should buy one and they can go back to the tent they just passed with all the dragon stuff? Or maybe they could just come back to it later, when they’ve circled the park?

“Good comeback, man. I’m close to falling to my knees from the sheer humiliation,” Flynn says and clutches his chest like his heart is aching.

Jack nods at him, slow and superior. “Good. Since that’s where you _should_ be, _peasant_.”

“Well, excuse me, your highness. I didn’t know you had suddenly transformed from a sleep deprived college student who eats soup straight from the can to a member of the royal family.”

The path is expanding up ahead, turning into a little picnic area with lots of colorful flower beds next to a massive fountain with a huge water beam in the middle and a bunch of smaller ones in a circle around it. There are people sitting on the edge of the fountain, some throwing coins into it, some just eating ice cream or talking. The tables and benches in the picnic area are occupied by families with children and groups of people his own age enjoying themselves. There are some stands selling fast food, ice cream and cold drinks. Damn, he’s thirsty after that ice cream cone.

“I’m a prince at heart, never forget that, Flynn,” he says, jutting his chin up to look extra arrogant. The sound of the splashing fountain is relaxing. A few cool drops land on his arm and it’s refreshing in the baking summer sun. “It’s just a matter of class, you know? I have more of it than you ever will.” He eyes a stand where a massive fridge stocked with ice cold soda and juice is calling to him. There’s a line of people, but it’s not too long.

And then. One of the customers walks away from the stand with a bright, green soda in his hand. Jack’s heart jumps like he’s walked into a glass door. What. The. Fuck. This might just be the most beautiful guy he has seen in his entire pathetic life. “I’ll have you know that-“ Flynn’s voice ebbs away. Jack keeps walking, his breath like glue in his throat. Can’t stop now, has to follow him, see him some more before he disappears forever. There’s a tightness in his shoulders. This guy is just … an intriguing mix of young and older features that really shouldn’t work so perfectly. He has a cute, rounded nose and big, expressive eyes that make him look younger than he probably is, but then there are those dark, thick eyebrows that give him a serious edge and holy shit, that jawline … It could cut Jack wide open like a fat, beached trout and he’d say thank you for it. The guy’s hair bounces as he walks, brown locks, a bit long in the front and the back, with a red shine under the glowing sun.

“Jack?” Are you even-“ Jack keeps walking and doesn’t take his eyes off him, looking to the side to see him properly but still keep enough distance, so he won’t come across as some kind of stalker. Because he’s not. Right? The guy looks tall and slim, dressed in skinny jeans and a big, green T-shirt with a black dragon on the back. Fuck, how does Dragon Boy just … exist like that? Strolling about in this ordinary park, like he’s just a normal human being like everyone else. With his handsome face and the whole kind and boyish vibe he’s exuding? And what the fuck is wrong with Jack? His neck’s starting to hurt from being stretched to the side, keeping an eye on a literal _stranger_ that he can’t seem to walk away from. “Jack? What’s going-“

Crash. Pain in the knees. World upside down. Ground slamming into his skin. The taste of dirt. Jack rolls to his side. Pain jolts through his skin. He holds a hand on his arm.

“Jack! Are you okay!? Shit!” He hears Flynn’s panicked voice from somewhere. He rolls onto his back and narrows his eyes, the sun too strong. “Oww,” he says and rubs a spot on his knee, where the pain seems to grow stronger and stronger. He feels something wet on his face. Wonders if he’s bleeding. Can hear whispers around him. Shit. Well done, Jack. Embarrass yourself in front of lots of people.

“Are you okay, son?” he hears a woman say from somewhere next to him. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, just hurts a little.” He forces himself to sit up. Looks around. Huh. He knocked over a tiny wooden stand that sells something he can’t fully identity right now. But it sure is colorful. “Uhm, do you need help cleaning this up?” he asks the woman, because it seems like she’s the owner of this, but she shakes her head with a smile.

His gaze finds Flynn and they simply stare at each other for several seconds. Flynn seems to be frozen. Until he breaks down laughing, even bending forwards like he’s about to snap in two. He hears scattered laughter from here and there around them.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Jack says, feeling heat seep into his stupid pale cheeks that always make it painfully obvious, when he’s embarrassed. Usually, he would shrug something like this off, but there’s clearly something he’s missing here.

Flynn tries to get words out, but he can’t breathe properly. “You, you, you,” he says between hysterical laughter. It’s rare to see Flynn break down like this, so Jack is unnerved. What the fuck is going on here? Is it really just because he walked into a stand and fell on his face like an idiot?

“What is it, asshole? Just say it,” he says and reaches his hand out for Flynn to help him. Flynn grabs him and pulls him up. Jack winces from putting weight on his knees. He glances around. There are still a few people staring at him, some laughing, some smiling and talking and pointing. What the hell is going on? Is his face all swollen or something?

Flynn takes out his phone and holds it up. Click. Wonderful. This can’t be good. Flynn wheezes with laughter, as he turns his phone to show the picture. And fuck his entire life, fuck his favorite blue sweater with the frost-pattern, fuck his secret stash of marshmallows inside the hollowed out book, fuck Clunky Caleb – the bulgy, clay elephant he made in the 3rd grade that still sits proudly in his window sill. Fuck. Everything. Because on Flynn’s phone there’s a picture of him … with pink and purple paint all over his face, splashes of glitter and what looks suspiciously like strawberry stickers. He looks like Barbie vomit. He takes a deep breath and resists the temptation to murder Flynn and bury his remains by that riding school that has the psychotic horse Maximus that hates Flynn’s guts. Jack clenches his fists and unclenches them again. Okay. It’s fine, it’s fine. He embarrassed himself a little, so what? It’s not like it will kill him. It’s fine.

“ _How_ did you not see that face painting booth?” Flynn says. “It was right in front of you!”

Face painting booth? That explains all the colors. “I was busy looking at that beautiful specimen of a human being to deal with stupid details like where I was going!” Jack says, because it’s the damn truth and in his mind, it’s a valid excuse.

Flynn looks around. “What? Who?”

Jack shakes his head and gives Flynn a weak shove. “Fuck you, I’m not telling you anything, after you humiliated me like that.”

“Uhm, I’m sorry to break it to you, Jackie, but I’m pretty sure you humiliated yourself,” Flynn says, wincing like it’s causing him pain to point it out, when actually, Jack knows he’s loving it.

Jack shrugs to give off a carefree vibe, but he has no idea if it’s working. Usually, he’s okay with doing embarrassing things. He can play it off like the goof he is. But this might be a tad too much, even for him. And he even lost sight of Dragon Boy. He probably won’t ever see him again. Great. “Did you see a bathroom somewhere?” he says to Flynn. He needs to get all this shit washed off as quickly as possible, so he doesn’t look like he just rubbed his face all over a little girl’s scrapbook.

“Yeah, I think there was one over here?” Flynn says and points towards a little cluster of pink cherry trees with some benches under them. Jack follows his line of sight and yes, thank all that is snowy and cold and good, there is a little, wooden bathroom-house.

And right next to it, under one of the cherry trees, Dragon Boy is looking straight at him with a warm smile on his lips. There’s nothing cruel about it, it just looks amused and friendly. Shit. Warmth pools in Jack’s face, his cheeks feel like he’s stuck his head directly into scorching sand. Dragon Boy’s friendliness is somehow even worse than if the guy had been an idiot. Because if he was an idiot, Jack could just not give a shit. He doesn’t have time for idiots. But Dragon Boy is not an idiot. And that’s a problem. Jack keeps eye contact, even though he wants to look away. He wants to run in the other direction, wants to go straight home and slam his door and only have Clunky Caleb as company for the next 10 years. Because the most beautiful guy he’s ever seen just saw him fall straight into a face painting booth. And now he looks like the love child between a unicorn and a box of pink frosting.

“Is that the guy?” he hears Flynn say. “Wauw, he’s just your type, no wonder you lost every brain cell in your head, when you saw him.”

“Not. Helping,” Jack says, wishing for a cool winter breeze here in the middle of July, so maybe his cheeks wouldn’t feel like they’re melting. A group of kids run past them, their little sneakers slamming against the gravel path in the same frantic speed as Jack’s heartbeat. He tries to take slow breaths, but he and Dragon Boy are still looking at each other, and it’s fucking impossible to calm down. What’s he supposed to do now? He’s just standing here, pink and purple in the face, looking like a complete idiot!

“What are you waiting for?” Flynn says and nudges him. “Go talk to him.”

“Uhm, no,” Jack says, because every cell in his body buzzes with resistance at that ridiculous idea. What the hell does Flynn think this is? A rom-com? Jack does _not_ need to make this situation any worse by letting Dragon Boy see him up close and hear him try to fumble his way through a conversation. No thanks. He’d rather be this pink and purple monstrosity for a month than to put himself through _that_ sort of torture.

But then Flynn, the traitor, the idiot, the absolute _dumbass_ , waves at Dragon Boy like this is some sort of friendly encounter with an acquaintance. And Dragon Boy looks surprised, stopping in the middle of taking a sip of his soda. And then he waves back. Because why wouldn’t he? He’s clearly not only handsome but _nice_ as well. Jack swallows the spit that has gathered in his mouth. His breaths are shallow, unable to fill his lungs completely. This is it. He needs to get home, before this situation escalates to the point, where he can never show his face in this park again.

But then Flynn yells “My friend thinks you’re cute!” in that obnoxious, cheery tone he always uses, when he’s teasing the shit out of someone. In this case, Jack.

And Jack refuses to look at Dragon Boy anymore. He stares at his feet instead and wonders if he can kill Flynn with a shoelace.


	2. Chapter 2

The sounds of the park are far away, like Jack has built a barrier of ice blocks around himself. Children laughing, the splashing from the fountain, people’s conversations, shoes on the gravel paths – everything is muffled, soft, weak.

Jack’s cheeks are burning. No, scratch that. His whole face, his whole body, his entire _soul_ is on fire, and unless he gets it under control, he’s going to boil from the inside. Flynn just yelled out “My friend thinks you’re cute” to the most beautiful guy Jack has ever seen. He keeps staring at his shoes; worn, blue Converse with snowflakes and black shoelaces, trying to will the heat away. If he was an X-man, his name would be Fire Cheeks and Pyro would have nothing on him, because Jack would have the power to burn the whole park to a crisp, only fueled by pure embarrassment.

“He’s coming over here,” Flynn says with a stupid, smug smile that Jack wants to rip right off his lips.

“What!?” Jack hisses and looks up only to see that, yes, Dragon Boy is approaching – with pink cherry trees in the background and a breeze in his hair and the whole deal, like they’re in a goddamn cartoon. Fuck. Shit. “Okay, I need to just-“ Jack says and turns, because escape is really the only option at this point, but Flynn grabs his arm and keeps him in place. “Nope,” Flynn says. And that’s where the panic truly sets in, because he can’t even run away like the coward he is. He has to actually face the embarrassment head on. What ever happened to running away being a legitimate response to embarrassment? He feels like his organs are vibrating with nervousness, like his whole skeleton is full of hummingbirds.

“Calm down,” Flynn says. Pffff, like calming down is an actual option here. He pats Jack’s back like the jerk that he is. “I’m here,” Flynn has the audacity to add. Yes, he is indeed here. His annoying presence is the reason for this predicament.

Jack scoffs. He glances at Flynn, who looks way too happy with this situation, having that damn sparkle in his eyes and twitching lips that seem like they’re one second away from bursting into a grin. Bah. “That’s one of the things I’m worried about,” he says and scowls, because Flynn should know how much he does _not_ appreciate the position he’s been put in. He breathes in deep and releases it slowly. It doesn’t help, there still an overwhelming buzzing in every part of his body, and now there’s nausea crawling up through his chest, like he’s going to throw up soon. He makes a mental note to aim for Flynn. When he pukes up the last remnants of his dignity in front of the most beautiful guy he’s ever seen, maybe he can at least get vomit-induced vengeance over Flynn. That’s something.

Flynn nudges his shoulder. He has a soft smile on his face, but Jack is not going to acknowledge it. “Come on, Jackie, I want Dragon Boy to like you, so… I won’t do anything to embarrass you.”

“Any more than you already have,” Jack says. He glances at Dragon Boy, making his way over to them, still holding the green soda can. Every crunch of gravel against this guy’s sneakers is a step closer to Jack’s impending doom. No, he’s not exaggerating.

“Exactly,” Flynn says, putting a hand on his hip, showing off that little smirk of his. “You would have never talked to him by yourself, so I had to push you a little.”

“Well done, asshole, you pushed me straight into the abyss,” Jack says, watching a little girl with an Iron Man T-shirt skip past them with a yellow balloon in her hands. She accidentally lets go and it flies into the sky. Jack watches it getting smaller and smaller and smaller. Take me with you, he thinks.

Flynn laughs and whispers: “Don’t be so dramatic.”

And then Dragon Boy is here, Jack can see his legs and feet now, and he forces himself to look at him, because honestly, it would be rude and awkward if he didn’t. And holy shit, he’s even more beautiful up close with his freckles and his dark, thick eyebrows that frame his… Oh shit, Dragon Boy has green eyes, _abort_ , _abort_ , he has _green eyes_ , and it’s hurting Jack’s already fragile grip on how to act like a proper human being. Shit.

“Hi,” Dragon Boy says with a small, almost shy-looking smile, and _what_ is going on with this world, even his _voice_ is cute, having a little nasal quality.

“Hi,” Jack manages to say and wauw, he didn’t even stutter, despite how fucking mortified he is, good job. He’s absolutely certain that his pale skin is showing off a lovely red blush though, and that is horrifying in itself. He points at Flynn, because when something is awkward, always blame Flynn. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, because honestly, they might have embarrassed this guy too, some stranger calling out to him that way in the middle of a crowded park.

Flynn lets out an offended squawk but doesn’t say anything. For once in his life. Good.

Dragon Boy’s smile grows bigger and Jack can see a little gap between his two front teeth. Adorable. Ugh. He can’t help but smile back, despite the continued forest fire in his cheeks. He’s torn between wanting this interaction to end right away and wanting it to go on forever. He concludes that he might be a masochist.

“That’s okay,” Dragon Boy says and waves a hand around like it’s no big deal, even though it definitely is. His hair looks so shiny underneath the soft afternoon sun. “I have friends that would probably do the same thing to me.”

“We should get new friends, “Jack says and feels his nerves ease up, because joking around is comfortable, safe. He knows how to do this. He takes a slow breath and releases it. This time it actually lessens the nausea. He might not vomit, what an accomplishment.

“Definitely,” Dragon Boy says and presses his lips together, like he’s trying his best not to laugh. Jack smiles at him, can’t even help himself, and decides that he _definitely_ needs to hear him laugh. It’s a good thing making people laugh is his specialty.

“Wow, wow, wow, hang on, I won’t just stand here and watch, while you plan to get rid of me,” Flynn says, holding both his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

Jack scoffs. “I’ve planned it for a long time, I’ve just been too busy to put everything into motion.”

Flynn simply looks at him for a few seconds with unimpressed eyes. “Jack, this morning you spent an hour by the kitchen window, watching a fat squirrel eat seeds.”

“Oh, and you’re saying that watching Plump Pierre doesn’t count as being busy?” Jack says, putting on his best I-can’t-believe-how-you’re-acting-right-now look. He sees Dragon Boy struggling not to laugh and he takes it as a personal challenge, because it’s _going_ to happen.

“Oh god, you named it,” Flynn says, putting his face in his hands, like he’s lost all hope for Jack’s future. He probably has. Multiple times throughout their friendship. The feeling is mutual.

“Of course, I did. I see him almost every day, I even say hi to him, when I leave the house. I couldn’t _not_ give him a name. It would be _rude_ , Flynn.”

Dragon Boy bursts out laughing, looking so carefree and unrestrained with his eyes scrunched and his mouth open, showing off those white teeth with the cute gap. Jack feels a familiar warm pride unfold inside him and damn it, that laugh is an adorable sound that should be recorded, so he – hell, _everyone_ – could listen to it when they’re having a bad day. Because this is the sort of laugh that makes you crack a smile, even on the days where your boss is an idiot and you feel ugly and useless and you had a fight with your best friend and missed the bus on the way home.

Jack laughs along with him, because it’s infectious. But Flynn waggles his eyebrows at him, and he stops immediately. Ugh, why does his best friend have to be such an asshole?

Dragon Boy slowly stops laughing and shakes his head to himself. “What’s your name?” he says to Jack, tilting his head. He has a spark in his eyes, like he’s genuinely interested. Huh. Maybe Jack actually has a chance here, if he keeps goofing around to avoid dealing with his own embarrassment. Can do.

“Jack,” he says and jerks his head towards Flynn, “And this pathetic excuse for a best friend is Flynn.” A soft breeze touches his burning face and it feels so nice and relieving that Jack wishes he could keep it there.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Dragon Boy says, looking between them, giving Flynn just as much as attention, which is undeserved, because Flynn is a damn peasant. “I’m Hiccup.”

“Hiccup?” Flynn says, while Jack is processing how the guy could even have a cute _name_ to go with the voice and … pretty much everything else. Who’s responsible for this? Because Jack would like to file a complaint/thank you note.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you sometime,” Hiccup says, turning the soda can in his hands. Jack thinks there’s a hint of wariness to his voice now. Huh. So, this might be a sore spot.

“It’s cute,” Jack says, because apparently, he has lost all control of his brain-to-mouth filter. As soon as the words leave his lips, he feels like collapsing on the ground and burying his face in the dirt, so only the ants and the worms will know how embarrassing he is. He rubs his neck instead, trying to deal with the heat roaring under every inch of his skin. He glances at Flynn, whose lips are pressed so tight, it looks like he’s about to crumble from laughter. Jack hates him so much.

But Hiccup smiles much brighter now, and there’s nothing but appreciation in his voice, when he says: “Thanks, Jack.”

And okay, maybe his name sounds _really_ good, when Hiccup says it. And maybe it’s okay that his brain-to-mouth filter is malfunctioning, because Hiccup clearly likes it. And whatever works to get this cute, nice, dorky guy to like him, Jack is on board with it. “You’re welcome,” he says and looks away for a moment, because he feels like he’s going to combust, if he doesn’t get a break from looking straight into Hiccup’s lovely, green eyes.

“So, Hiccup, what brought you here today?” Flynn says and for the first time during this whole interaction, Jack is grateful Flynn is here, because otherwise, he would probably be struggling to find something not-completely-mortifying to say at this point.

“Oh, uhm, me and a friend collaborated on a painting that we’ve exhibited here,” Hiccup says, glancing around him, like he’s trying to spot his friend. Jack looks around too, even though he has no clue what this person looks like, and even if he did, it would be difficult to spot them with all these people around. He mentally adds “artist” to the rapidly growing list called “Hiccup’s attractive qualities”, and he really has no chance to defend himself from this. The universe knows all his weaknesses and has chosen to exploit it by sending a guy that possesses all of them. Jack glances at Hiccup’s shirt with the black dragon on it, and there’s no way it could be any other painting than the one they saw earlier. This guy paints dragons. How awesome is that? “Let me guess … It’s in the dragon tent?” Jack says.

Hiccup looks confused for a split second, before he looks down at his shirt and chuckles. “Yeah … I guess, it’s kind of obvious. I just really like dragons,” he says and looks between Jack and Flynn, like he’s waiting for them to agree or disagree.

“Who doesn’t? They’re cool,” Jack says, remembering when he dressed up as a white dragon for Halloween - No, he wasn’t 9 years old at the time, it was two years ago. If he’s so lucky that Hiccup wants to see him again, he should definitely show him a picture of it.

“Yeah,” Flynn says. “They’re great. Although they don’t _need_ to be in every single Fantasy story ever written.”

Jack sniffs. “Well... I think it’s safe to say our friendship is over.”

Hiccup nods, his smile completely gone. His eyes are serious, a faint gleam of sadness in them. “I’m sorry, Jack. It’s so sad, when you think you know someone, and then it turns out they’re actually just a _terrible_ person,” Hiccup says, and fucking hell, he’s _funny_ too, that’s just not fair.

“Oh, come on now,” Flynn says and rolls his eyes, even though Jack can spot the hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s not that bad.”

Jack sighs, making sure it’s long and loud for dramatic effect. “It’s bad, Flynn,” he says, making his voice sound all cracked, like he’s about to cry. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.” A guy with a huge red beard and a Metallica shirt walks by and stops eating his ice cream to shoot them a strange look. “What?” Jack says to him, “You’ve never discovered your best friend’s deepest, darkest secret in a park before?” The guy widens his eyes and keeps on walking, probably eager to get away from that emotional psycho with the white hair.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Flynn says and rubs his forehead, sounding very tired. “All I said was that dragons are great, but they don’t _have_ to be in every story. I’m not a bad guy here.”

“Oh please, you might as well say you like punching orphans,” Hiccup says, spitting out the last two words like a sharp accusation.

Flynn clutches his chest like an old lady and gasps like he’s never been so offended in his entire life.

And Jack loses it, because this situation is so fucking ridiculous and he loves it. His laughter won’t stop pouring out of his mouth, and he wheezes to try to get some air into his lungs. Flynn and Hiccup break down too, and it just makes Jack laugh even more to see his best friend and this cute guy falling apart. Flynn laughs so much, he starts coughing, and Hiccup is bending forward, holding his hands on his knees. And damn, that laughter is still so amazingly adorable and infectious. Jack’s stomach begins to cramp, but he can’t stop laughing, because how the fuck did this conversation go from saying hi to punching orphans?

Little by little, their laughter turns into chuckles. Jack’s gut feels like it’s been used as a trampoline. He’s relieved, when he can also stop chuckling and just smile instead. Flynn sighs, long and deep, like he can finally breathe properly. Hiccup wipes tears from his eyes with a tired smile on his lips. And Jack wants to keep this conversation going, so he tries to remember, what they were talking about, before everything turned into this lovely Flynn-bashing contest.

He breathes in deep to calm himself. His skin is still burning everywhere, but he’s less bothered by it now that laughing so much has loosened up his muscles. “So, your painting is that huge one with the black dragon?” he asks, because he really really needs to know. If it is, then Hiccup is very talented and that’s just the universe taking a sledgehammer and crushing Jack’s last defenses, because how the hell is he supposed to resist _that_ on top of everything else?

“Yeah, it is,” Hiccup says and takes a sip from his soda. Damn, Jack could really use something to drink. Between the heat and the laughing and being a nervous wreck, his throat is getting dry.

“That’s amazing,” Jack says and enjoys the way Hiccup’s face lights up.

“You’re very talented,” Flynn says with a nod.

“Thanks,” Hiccup says, fiddling with the soda can, beginning to take off a little sticker on the side of it. “It took us a long time to paint it.”

“I can imagine,” Jack says. “All those details must have been hell.” He studies Hiccup’s hands as they peel off the sticker. Hmm, scars, abrasions, short nails, Hiccup probably works with his hands a lot. And in that second, he has to push away some very intrusive thoughts, because, yeah, no, he really doesn’t need to make his skin flame up even more. He shifts his weight and enjoys the cracking sound of the gravel under his feet.

“Yeah, they were,” Hiccup says. “But me and my friend thought it would be cool to do a painting of what my dog Toothless would look like, if he was a dragon, so we decided to go all the way.”

“Toothless?” Jack says, because what kind of a name is that for a dog? Is he actually toothless?

Even in the glowing afternoon sun, Jack can tell the warmth inside him isn’t coming from there, but from the way Hiccup is smiling at him, all fond and amused. “It’s a long story,” Hiccup says.

“Like Hiccup”? Jack says, hoping he’ll get both stories one day.

Hiccup chuckles, and Jack wants to boop his freckled nose. “Exactly.”

A blur shoots into Hiccup and he stumbles backwards. It takes Jack a few seconds to register what’s happening. “There you are!” a light, cheery voice says, and now Jack can see that it’s a girl with… impossibly long, blonde hair, right down to her ankles, hugging Hiccup like she was afraid he had left her. Wauw, she’s beautiful. Man, Jack really _really_ hopes there isn’t something between her and Hiccup, because even though Hiccup said “friend”, sometimes there’s more than that bubbling between two people.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for like 15 minutes,” Hiccups says, his voice strained from being hugged so tight. “Hey, you’re cutting off the blood flow to my arms, could you loosen that death grip a little bit?”

Jack smiles, despite the new wave of nerves that hits him. Because they’re cute together, but damn, what if he’s read this situation entirely wrong? What if Hiccup just thinks this is a regular chat between guys? Flynn did yell out that part about Jack thinking Hiccup is cute, but still… Arghh, the crushing doubt…

The girl lets go of Hiccup and focuses on Jack and Flynn. Her eyes are big and expressive, sort of childish but in an endearing way. “Who are your friends?” she says to Hiccup. “And how did _you_ make friends?” she adds with a grin and nudges Hiccup’s shoulder. Jack already likes her, despite his concern. She’s nice and clearly has a good sense of humor. Two big plusses in his book.

“You’re hilarious, I think I might collapse from laughter,” Hiccup says in the most monotone voice, Jack has ever heard, and somehow, impossible as it seems, Jack finds himself wishing even more that he can see him again. “This is Jack,” Hiccup says and motions to him. “And this is Flynn.”

Jack glances at Flynn and wauw, this is too good to be true. Flynn is staring at this girl with his mouth a little open, and Jack can’t resist rubbing his hands together in utter glee. Flynn is always cool and collected around girls, but apparently this time, something is different, because Flynn.exe has stopped working. Well, well, well, how the tables have turned.

“This is Rapunzel,” Hiccup says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “One of my best friends.”

“Rapunzel and Hiccup,” Jack says, showing off a warm smile, so they know he’s not making fun of them. People can be real assholes sometimes, so he imagines they’ve heard a lot of shit about their names over the years.

“Yeah… “ Hiccup says, taking another quick sip of his soda. Rapunzel motions to the can and he gives it to her. “We met when we were 16 and bonded over having unusual names that people love to crack repetitive jokes about.”

Rapunzel takes a sip and hands the can back to Hiccup. “Yeah, I can’t even count how many people have said “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair” and then just stared at me expectantly, like I’m supposed to congratulate them on their originality.”

“Ugh, sounds rough,” Jack says. Flynn hums in agreement, because apparently, he’s lost his ability to speak, which suits Jack just fine.

“Well, we’re kind of just owning it now,” Rapunzel says and gestures to her incredibly long hair. Jack finds it really impressive, not just because of the length, but because it looks healthy; thick, shiny, no obvious split ends. Must take a long time to maintain.

“Good for you,” Jack says with an approving nod. “Takes the power away from all those jerks.”

“Exactly,” Rapunzel says, combing her fingers through a lock of hair. “Anyway, I’m sorry to break this whole thing up, but the festival is over in like 10 minutes, so Hiccup and I need to pack up the painting and get it home.”

“Ah, okay,” is Jack’s intellectual response. He looks at Flynn, who doesn’t have anything to add, because his brain is on pause. No help there. Shit. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. How does he go about this? The nerves bubble in his stomach, frantic, nauseating, maybe trying to boil the ice cream he ate earlier. He swallows, spit forcing itself down his dry, cracked throat with difficulty.

Hiccup pulls out his phone from his pocket. “Can I have your number, so we can keep in touch?” he says. Rapunzel snaps her head to the side and watches Hiccup with an open mouth and bulging eyes, disbelief written all over her face. Hiccup does not look at her at all. And Jack thinks he sees a little nervousness in Hiccup’s eyes, which is honestly a relief, because he’s not alone then.

“Of course,” he says, way too quickly to play it cool, but playing it cool is overrated anyway. In what universe would he ever say no to keeping in touch with someone like Hiccup? And thank fuck that Hiccup actually asked _him_. He can feel Flynn’s eyes on him, but luckily he’s still on mute, so there are no smart ass remarks tumbling out of that smug mouth of his.

Hiccup hands him his phone and Jack types in his number, having gone from a nervous wreck to almost feeling numb because this is a surreal situation, and he did not expect any of this to happen. He saves his number as a contact under the name Jack and four snowflake emojis, because snowflake emojis are the best, despite Flynn’s incessant claims that the poo emoji is the only rational choice.

He hands the phone back to Hiccup, and when their fingers brush, Jack is ready to collapse and scream into the ground.

“I’ll text you,” Hiccup says, and Jack knows he’s going to be counting down the minutes until it happens, because he’s so pathetic.

“Great,” he says and huh, he sounded all casual there, great stuff. He gives himself a mental pat on the back. He deserves another ice cream now.

“It was great meeting both of you,” Hiccup says, gesturing to Jack, then Flynn. “I had fun.” And maybe Jack is delusional, maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but the way Hiccup hesitates to actually say goodbye makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to end either.

“We did too,” Flynn says. Well, well, look who is back from brain-melting mode. Flynn’s face looks somewhat back to normal, although he is more subdued than his usual annoying self.

“Yeah, of course, we did,” Jack says, curling and flexing his toes inside his shoes, because this is a whole other kind of tension, not wanting something to be over.

Hiccup’s lips curve upwards in a smile, and it’s a small but warm little thing that’s over before Jack fully got to appreciate it. “Bye,” Hiccup says and grabs Rapunzel’s arm. “Bye, guys,” Rapunzel says with a cute, little wave.

He and Flynn simply watch them walk away among the chaos of the busy park. All around them, food stalls are closing, people are lugging paintings and sketches and posters out of tents, families are packing up their lunch leftovers and blankets from the lawn. As he watches Hiccup’s and Rapunzel’s retreating forms, he suddenly remembers a very important thing. He takes a deep breath and screams: “By the way, Rapunzel! Flynn says you’re the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen!”

Flynn’s eyes bulge and he coughs so much, Jack expects a slimy lung to lie on the ground any minute now. Rapunzel and Hiccup both look back at them, and even though they’re a good distance away now, it’s not too far for Jack to see the way Rapunzel ducks her head in embarrassment and Hiccup laughs and puts a hand on her back to keep her moving.

“I didn’t say that!” Flynn tells him and punches Jack’s arm. The pain surges through his muscles and he hisses. There’s definitely going to be a bruise there. Oh well, it was worth it just to see the look on Flynn’s face.

He waves a hand around to dismiss Flynn’s ridiculous words. “Oh please, we’ve been best friends for years, you said it with your eyes and your open mouth. You looked like Plump Pierre drooling over that bowl of mixed nuts I put out for him.”

“ _You’re_ a bowl of mixed nuts,” Flynn mutters, crossing his arms.

Jack laughs. “Wauw, someone’s bitter. Not so fun to get a taste of your own medicine, huh?”

Flynn’s lips twitch, almost not visible. Shit. What’s happening? Jack holds a hand over his arm. Maybe a punch is coming.

“Well, at least I don’t look like the Barbie aisle in a toy store,” Flynn says and boops Jack’s nose.

And that’s when Jack realizes he still has pink and purple face paint, glitter and stickers stuck to his face. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in his brain, before it’s replaced by deafening screams. Jack wants the damn heat in his face to just fucking melt him already. Turn him into a puddle of goo, so his suffering will finally be over, damn it. He’s just had a whole conversation with an amazing guy, looking like he’s been attacked by little girls on a makeover rampage. Fuck everything. He’s just going to go home, pack his stuff and ask Plump Pierre if he can move in with him. It’s fine, he can live in a tree for the rest of his life, as long as he never has to endure this sort of humiliation ever again.

Flynn’s smug face has a very punch-able quality and Jack is so tempted to at least knock him over and sprinkle dirt all over his face. Ugh. He rubs his cheeks, probably making the pink and purple monstrosity even worse now. Why is he friends with Flynn, again?

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out, expecting it to be a message delivering some terrible news that can make this moment even worse. Maybe he’s getting fired, who knows?

But it’s from an unknown number. _I think you’re cute too btw_. He can’t help but laugh to himself, loving the sudden rush he gets, heartbeat speeding up, feeling light, energized. He feels like he could lift a car, if he wanted to. Hiccup likes him. Hiccup thinks he’s cute. He wants to dance and shout and run until his legs are sore. And suddenly, it’s fine that he looks like a complete idiot. It’s fine that he _feels_ like a complete idiot. It’s even fine that he’s best friends with a complete idiot. He doesn’t need to move in with Plump Pierre after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments make me happy <3


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